Albert suddenly didn’t feel like talking anymore. His heart felt utterly weary.

He thought this to himself, but his body stayed obedient. He kept speaking: “I wasn’t named Hero after arriving at the Demon King’s Castle. The world appointed me Hero for saving the princess.”

After finishing, he wore a nostalgic expression.

“Was the princess beautiful? You look like you miss her. After rescuing her, did she marry you as the world’s script demanded? Nonsense! The princess should’ve been mine!”

“What nonsense are you spouting? I saved Princess, but I never married her. She wed a neighboring prince and’s probably living happily ever after (shamelessly) by now.”

“Why do I sense so much resentment in your words?”

No wonder. He’d risked his life to save the princess, only for some idle prince to steal her away. What good was the Hero title if it couldn’t win him a bride?

“By the way,” Chu Xueyue cut in, eager to dodge this more painful topic than imprisonment. “After becoming a Hero, shouldn’t you have a great life? Why am I seeing you here?”

Back to the sore subject again. Weren’t they avoiding this? But this time, Albert wasn’t as upset. He answered directly: “The Dark Lord reawakened. As this world’s Hero, I had to defeat him. We struck while he was weak after revival—but underestimated him. He and his Four Heavenly Kings crushed us easily.”

“Naturally,” Chu Xueyue mused. “In your world, defeating the Dark Lord always followed the same routine. You’d beat his minions one by one. When they regrouped, you thought it’d still be easy? Like a game—Dark Lords stay hidden as final bosses, letting Heroes grind levels before the showdown. Charging straight here for hell difficulty? How did you even think of that?”

“You’re right. We were too hasty,” Albert sighed after understanding.

Chu Xueyue had noticed Albert kept saying “we,” though only Albert sat here chatting. The others had likely sacrificed themselves for the noble cause of slaying the Dark Lord. So Chu Xueyue pretended not to notice, ignoring that “we.”

“Anyway, want to escape? I couldn’t alone before, but now we have a chance. Open your Hero Interface and check what special ability the world gave you.”

“Hero Interface? What’s that? Where is it?” Chu Xueyue had never seen a game-like panel before.

Albert raised his right hand, sliding the cuff down to reveal a black bracelet on his wrist. “See? You summon the Hero Interface with this—the Hero Bracelet. Many Otherworldly Heroes mistakenly think it’s in their mind, visible only to them. The palace library’s Hero biographies are full of such blunders. Read them if you get the chance.”

“Are you sure those historians weren’t killed by angry Heroes?”

“No worries. They all died of old age.”

Chu Xueyue lifted his own right hand. A black bracelet had appeared there unnoticed.

“How do you use this Hero Bracelet? Voice commands? Mental control?”

“Neither. Manual.” Albert tapped his bracelet. A screen popped up. “But content stays locked without the owner’s consent.”

Chu Xueyue copied the motion. A light screen appeared—this must be the Hero Interface. Yet it looked odd.

“What special ability did the world grant you?” Albert asked.

Chu Xueyue scanned the panel, then the bracelet, and turned to Albert. “Albert, I think my bracelet’s broken.”

“Broken? This is a divine artifact! How could it break? No Hero Bracelet has ever failed before.”

Chu Xueyue frowned, rechecking. “Look yourself. I don’t believe this interface is functional.”

With Chu Xueyue’s permission, Albert viewed the panel:

Character: Chu Xueyue

Level: LV:1

Class: Hero

Race: Human

Equipment: Otherworldly Clothing

HP: (o˚̑̑̑̑̑ 3˚̑̑̑̑̑ o)

Attack: (˘̩̩̩ε˘̩ƪ)

Defense: (๑•̌.•̑๑)ˀ̣ˀ̣

Magic: ฅ۶•ﻌ•♡

Skill: Conditions not met, cannot unlock

A stampede of adorable mythical beasts galloped through Albert’s mind.

He concluded: “Your Hero Interface really is broken.”

“I knew it. Unless yours looks like this, why did this happen?” Chu Xueyue asked, puzzled.

When he first saw his interface, Chu Xueyue had been baffled. But he quickly realized it didn’t matter. The interface was useless anyway—no skills, no escape. He’d still be stuck here.